A Criminal Mind
by ohmycroft
Summary: Takes place a week after Emily's 'death'. The BAU team is still devastated, and just then they get a new case, one that's different from everything else they've experienced - it's in London. As the teams gets to know the world's only consulting detective, they're dragged into his world. As they'll face the worst criminal mind they'd ever met, they'll realize there's no way back.
1. Getting Ready

**AN: Hey! So I used to have a story with the same name, but since I've decided there's a lot I want to change about it, I've deleted it and created a new one with the same name because I like it :) It may seem very similar at first, but the change will be more noticeable after a while. **

**Anyway, here's chapter one!**

* * *

Aaron was the first to arrive, as usual. He passed next to the empty desks on the way to his office. His gaze lingered on Prentiss' desk, as it always did for the past week, but he forced himself not to think about her absence and kept walking. Emily's 'death' was unexpected and unwelcome, but as hard as it was to him, it was even worse for JJ and Garcia. As the unit chief, it was his job to be the strongest. JJ pretended everything is alright, but during the flights, when everybody else was asleep, Aaron knew she was writing to her. She was the only one who knew the truth except for himself, and he knew how difficult it is for her. Garcia didn't try to hide her sadness, but she had Morgan to help her through. Reid kept pushing everyone away from him, but he got very close to JJ again. Rossi seemed to handle it the best – he kept saying that she wouldn't have wanted them to mourn and cry over her, but he probably did that in order to support Ashley. He stopped saying that after Morgan almost hit him before he managed to complete the sentence.

He shut the office's door behind him. Strauss had told him there's a new case and that's it's different than anything else they've seen before, but refused to give any other details about it. Aaron sat down heavily on his chair and began reading the file. His eyes widened when he saw the location of the case.

_London, England_.

* * *

The room still felt empty to Garcia. They all sat there, but they didn't talk and laugh like they used to – the empty chair kept attracting their gazes to it, insisting to be noticed.

"Hey." she said quietly with a small as she entered the room. She wasn't late, everybody else was early. Ever since Emily had died, they were all eager to get a new case, because whenever they had free time, they talked about Doyle.

"Once I'll get my hands on that sick son of a bitch…" Morgan would say and break the long silence. Reid would gulp and search for JJ's comforting expression, which he would find in seconds. "We'll get him…" Garcia would assure him, "…Eventually" she would add morbidly.

Morgan smiled a small smile to her and she sat down beside him.

"Good, you're all here, we can get started." Hotch said and got up from his chair. The screen lit up, and three bodies appeared. It wasn't very difficult to understand why they were asked to come – each body had a large ugly hole in its chest, and the crime scene was full of blood. There was a picture of a smiling person next to each body – two men and one female.

"William Smith was killed a week ago," he said and gestured to the man on the left, "Mary Lowsley was killed four days ago," he gestures to the ginger woman, "And John Phillips was killed yesterday. All found by homeless men. All had their heart removed."

"You told us there's something different about this one. What's the difference?" as sick as it sounded, after seeing so much blood on his life, Morgan couldn't see the major difference, other than the rather violent murders.

"This one is in London." Hotch said hesitantly.

The team responded just like he thought. Their eyes widened, their jaws dropped, all struggling to find the right words. As he expected, Morgan was the first one to talk.

"_London_?" he exclaimed, "How is that even possible? We never leave America."

"They usually consult their local detectives, but their most successful detective's life has been threatened lately, so he can't investigate." Hotch explained.

"Are the murders related to him?" Seaver asked.

"As far as we know, they aren't. Wheels up in an hour. Garcia, we need you to come with us, in order to avoid the time differences. You should all go get prepared, and we'll talk on the plane." Aaron interrupted, sending the crew away. They had questions he couldn't answer, and he needed those answers.


	2. Questions And Answers

Once they were in the air, the questions began.

"Why are we going to England? Don't they have their own police there?"

"Actually, they have a –"

"Shut up, Reid."

"Who's this detective anyway? Why would anyone bother so much to threaten his life?"

"Do they have any suspects?"

Aaron sighed. He knew this case would be difficult. "One at a time, please."

"Who's this detective?" Seaver asked first.

"His name is Sherlock Holmes. He's rather famous in the UK. If you've ever heard his name before, it's probably because of this." Hotch said and handed them the pages he made before they left, filled with articles about that detective.

"Hold on – this one says he _died_." Ashley said with a deep frown.

"Keep reading. Apparently he faked his death." Reid said, as he obviously already finished reading the articles.

"Wait, Sherlock _Holmes_ you said?" Rossi suddenly asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I think I know his brother." he said and pulled out his cell phone. He searched through his contacts, and then smiled when he found the one he was looking for. "Here it is – Mycroft Holmes. Met him a couple of years ago. He works for the British government, I'm not so sure what he does there but I know he has a lot of power. If we'll need to know anything further about this Sherlock, I'll ask him." he smiled at the rest of the crew.

"I knew his name was familiar!" Garcia said, lifting her gaze from her laptop. "There's this really famous blog I've been following, the blog of John H. Watson. He's friends with this Sherlock guy, apparently one of his _only_ friends. He blogs about their cases and investigations. Here, I found a link to a site Sherlock runs." she said and clicked it. The team gathered behind her.

"The science of deduction." JJ read out loud.

"I'm not going to go into detail about how I do what I do because chances are you _wouldn't understand_." Morgan read, his tone changing as he reached the end of the sentence. "Who _is_ this overconfident dude?"

"I don't know, he seemed pretty intelligent. 'When I've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how mad it might seem, must be the truth.'" Reid read. He seemed to be the only one who's actually looking forward to meet the detective.

"Wait, Hotch, you never answered my question. Why is our help needed? Who called us? Why don't they assist their own agents?"

"Apparently that without Sherlock Holmes they're helpless. Every detective they have had tried to investigate the murders, but no one managed to catch the killer. They don't even have suspects. That's why they need us. The man who called us is Detective Inspector Lestrade. Usually, I'd say we should split up, but this time I want us all to come and meet him. After that, we'll split."

Suddenly, Garcia burst into laughter. The team all stared at her, and as soon as she noticed that she looked up from her laptop apologetically.

"I'm sorry, but this blog is really funny. You should read the comments about this post." she apologized, and Morgan immediately came behind her to see what was funny. He laughed as well, and soon the whole team began to read John Watson's blog posts.


	3. Welcome To London

**A/N: So this is the first chapter where the two shows officially collide! It's longer that the previous two, since the actual plot is finally starting in this chapter. Hope you like it! Reviews are always welcome :)**

* * *

When the team entered The New Scotland Yard building, they were all agitated. They felt out of place, and every time they said anything their American accent was especially distinctive. So they walked silently as a group, and waited for someone to identify them. After a moment, a grey-haired man walked to them. "Are you here for the job interviews? Because if you are, the job was already taken."

Aaron cleared his throat. "I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, I'm the BAU unit chief. We were asked to come in order to help with an investigation." he said, though not as confidently as he usually did.

The man's face lit up, and he immediately mumbled an apology. He offered his hand and Aaron shook it. "I'm DI Greg Lestrade. I didn't think you'd come so quickly." He turned around and started walking. "Follow me." he said without turning, and they followed.

* * *

They entered a small room, and through a long rectangle window, which was clearly a one-sided mirror, they could see a small interrogation room, in which sat two men. One of them was taller than the other, and had dark curly hair, bright blue eyes and a pale skin. The other one had sandy coloured hair, and he seemed much more upset than the man next to him. The two of them were having a conversation, but they were talking too quietly for them to hear it.

"These are Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. I suppose you already know who they are." Lestrade introduced. "Ever since the threat has been discovered, we're doing whatever it takes to keep him safe, but he, on the other hand, prefers to be out investigating, even if it means getting killed. That's why John had asked me to call you. He is really the man who asked for your help, not me." he said without removing his eyes from the detective. He sighed and looks at the team. "Look, Sherlock is a personal friend of mine. And nobody else is going to tell you that, but we really need your help. I just hope you're good as you say you are."

"We definitely are." Aaron assured him.

"I hope so." the DI said, and at that moment a loud noise came from the men behind the mirror.

* * *

"How do you think my grave will look like?" Sherlock joked teasingly for the hundredth time with a sarcastically curious expression.

"Stop it, Sherlock." John said agitated. He knew Lestrade was doing everything he could to keep his friend safe, but he'd been locked up in an interrogation room with Sherlock for five Sherlock, and it was getting harder and harder to fight the temptation to punch him.

"Actually, I've already seen it. Clearly you let Mrs. Hudson take care of those matters. This time let Mycroft take care of it, it'll be much funnier."

"Shut up, Sherlock."

Sherlock's expression became serious, and he half-turned in his seat to face his friend.

"You seem more nervous about my potential death than I am."

"Well, I am."

"Don't be. I've died once – it's not as exciting as you'd think." his seriousness faded as he continued. "In fact, it's -"

Sherlock stopped talking when he noticed the killer look his friend gave him.

"I'm annoying you, aren't I?" he asked with a smile.

John started to open his mouth to answer, but Sherlock started speaking again.

"Won't happen again if I die."

John Watson clenches his left hand to a fist and hit his best friend's cheek.

Less than a minute later, Lestrade entered the room. But he wasn't alone – seven people followed him, all looked a hundred percent American. Before Lestrade managed to close the door, he knew more than enough about everyone in the room. He smirked arrogantly at them.

"How was the flight?" he asked the crowd before Lestrade managed to introduce them.

The young-looking blonde, the black man and the blonde woman with the glasses looked confused by his question. He got his answer from the youngest man in the crowd, and if Sherlock hadn't known better, he'd think he's a teenager.

"It was fine, thank you. I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, and these are SSA Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, Ashley Seaver, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan and David Rossi." he said and gestured to the people around him by order.

Sherlock's arrogant smirk grew bigger. David Rossi – he remembered that name.

"My brother sends you his love, David Rossi."

Rossi smirked humourlessly.

"Nice try. Next time I talk to Mycroft, I'll make sure to tell him how much his brother misses him."

Sherlock's smirk became smaller. He thought the agent and his brother were merely acquaintances, but he seemed to know Mycroft better than he thought he would. Were they actually _friends_?

"These are the people I've told you about, John," Lestrade said, ignoring Sherlock, "the Behavioural Analysis Unit from Virginia. You asked me to get someone to investigate instead of you, and they appear to be the best."

"We wouldn't need them if you'd just let me investigate." the detective muttered.

"Oh, yes." John remembered and got up from his chair. He shook hands with all of the Americans, and by doing so made a much better impression than his friend did. The bruise he'd left on his friend's cheek wasn't forgotten, though.

"Pleasure to meet you." Garcia said when he shook her hand. "BTW, I totally love your blog." she said slightly too eagerly. Only after she'd spoken she realized he might not know what BTW means. Fortunately, he realized it.

"Uh, thanks. Glad you like it." he said and gave a meaningful look to his friend, who simply rolled his eyes.

"So why are we here?" Ashley asked at last. She was getting impatient, and her time was being wasted.

The detective stared at her. Gets bored quickly, he liked that. She's the one he despised the least at the moment, perhaps except for that young man.

"A man tried to kidnap me and shoot me. Luckily, I shot him first, but not before he said he's not the only one that's after me. John heard him, of course, and ever since that had happened he's been worried. Only this is not the first time I'm in a situation like this one, and as always, the police are out of their depth. Usually, they'd consult me, but John thinks it's _too dangerous_ that I'll actually do something useful instead of letting my brain rot, so here I am, bored in a small room with my violent friend. This inquiry would be over by now if they'd let me investigate. They know that only I can find the killer, but they rather let me die of boredom than to actually let me die." the detective said rapidly without stopping.

Everyone was shocked by the information they were given, mostly because it was explained so quickly they barely managed to follow. But after less than a second, the young man spoke.

"What did you mean by '_only I can find the killer_'? Why?"

"Oh, no." John mumbled as his friend's eyes narrowed and his arrogant smirk was back.

"I can read anything and anyone in seconds. For example, I know you have two, no – three – PhDs, that you have a schizophrenic mother that you do not visit but constantly think about, that you got shot in your knee a while ago but the wound didn't heal well, that you have an eidetic memory… Should I continue?"

The BAU crew were all astounded, and the longer it took them to react the larger Sherlock's smile grew. The first to answer was, as before, the young man.

"That was amazing!" he said enthusiastically. "How could you find all of that out?"

Sherlock's smile became more genuine. He was starting to like this man. "What's your name, again?" he asked. A man like that deserves to be remembered. A man like… himself. Or at least the closest thing he could have to himself, other than Mycroft of course.

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Well, Dr. Reid, it seems that you have a lot more to learn."

Morgan was getting angry. Reid was so captured in this mind-game, he wasn't at all bothered by the fact that this man can know their secrets just by looking at them.

"I have to spoil the fun, but I believe there's work to be done."

"Oh, right," said the DI, suddenly aware that he's the one in charge in the room. "Follow me, I'll get you settled in here. And as for you two," he said and turned to look at Sherlock and John, "I think you can go home. It won't be –"

"Actually, I don't think that'll be a very good idea." JJ interrupted. A sudden look of realization spread over her face as she realized she was being impolite, but after what she'd just seen, it seemed that these men weren't quite the ordinary Englishmen.

"What's your suggestion, JJ?" Aaron asked.

"Going back to their apartment," she stopped for a moment when she noticed the detective was mumbling _apartment_ in contempt, "might expose them to potential danger, especially if Mr. Holmes' life is still threatened. We're staying in a hotel anyway – why shouldn't they stay there too? This way they'll be closer to us, so if anything goes wrong, we'll be there to help."

"I don't think that's –"the detective started.

"Marvellous idea. You two should go pack up some clothes, you might be staying there for a while."

"Actually, I think I'll just go home." John said as he got up from his chair. "I have a pregnant wife to take care of, and as long as you all are taking care of that madman here I am perfectly willing to get away from him."

Sherlock's eyes sparkled with an idea, and he got up like John. "But that would dangerous, wouldn't it? To let John go back home without any protection? What if they'll use him to hurt me?" he asked in a fake-concerned tone.

"I'm sure I'll be fine." John answered with a light smile and a killer look.

"Actually, it might be better if you'll come with us as well. Just to make sure. We'll let your wife know where you are." Hotch said, and Sherlock smiled victoriously to his friend.

"Fine," John muttered eventually. "But I'm _not_ sharing a bed with him."


	4. Sleeping Arragements

**A/N: Hello there! This one is much longer than the previous ones, there's why it took me so long to write it :)**

**Hope you like it! Please review :)**

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't have any empty rooms at the moment. Just the one's you've booked for yourself." the clerk said with an apologetic smile.

"Alright, thank you." Aaron said and walked back to his team and the two Brits.

"They don't have any empty rooms."

"How unfortunate, we have to leave then." the detective said with a smirk.

"Not so fast. Morgan, Reid, you'll share your room with Sherlock. Rossi and I will share our room with John." Aaron said and waited for a nod from each of his men. Derek nodded reluctantly, not without mumbling something to Reid that made him widen his eyes and whisper: "Morgan!" in shock.

"JJ, Garcia and Seaver, your room is number 223. We'll be staying in room 222. Morgan, Reid –"

"You've got to be kidding me." John muttered, unintendedly distracting Aaron.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just… 2-2-1. Don't be surprised if he feels _too_ much at home."

Sherlock grinned as the American team look confused.

* * *

Rossi opened the door and entered to room 222. He turned on the lights and a small room was revealed, with one bed, two chairs and a lumpy sofa. There was another door next to the entrance door that led to a small bathroom with a small shower, a toilet and a sink.

Aaron closed the door behind them. It wasn't the best room they've been in, but that'll have to do. Besides, he hoped they wouldn't stay there for too long.

"I'll take the sofa." John immediately offered. Not only it was the polite thing to do, he also preferred not to share a bed with a man he's just met.

"I don't mind –"

"Don't worry, it's fine." John assured him before he'll offer to take the sofa instead.

Rossi put his luggage next to the left side of the bed, the one that was closer to the sofa. Aaron put his bags next to the other side of the bed. The three men all stood in silence, each waiting for the other to say something. Eventually, it was John who spoke.

"Agent Rossi?"

"Please, call me David."

"So, _David_," he corrected, "Sherlock had mentioned something about Mycroft to you. Are you friends with him?"

Rossi chuckled.

"We're not exactly friends, but I'm the closest thing he has to a friend."

John thought of the last time someone had said that sentence to him – it was Mycroft himself, explaining his relationship with Sherlock. He said they were enemies.

"How did you get in touch?" he asked. It wasn't like Mycroft to be in constant touch with an American.

"He called me a couple of years ago, and without introducing himself, he asked me to fake some papers about a woman. As I didn't have any other options, I helped him. Ever since, we call each other once in a while. He helps me with the more complex cases, and I help him with…" Rossi's voice trailed off as he phrased the sentence in his head, "his personal life." he said eventually.

"What do you mean, 'his personal life'?" Aaron asked as he felt out of the conversation.

"Mycroft Holmes is a very intelligent man, maybe even smarter than Reid, but just like him, he had some difficulties with emotions. But he doesn't have the regular difficulties every genius has – he actually doesn't understand emotions. He got so used to detaching himself from everyone around him, that he doesn't know how get close to people. He keeps pretending he hates people, but by the way I've heard him talk about his brother, I know he cares about him. He just doesn't know how to."

John was clearly surprised. He'd already known how cold Mycroft was – the surprising part was that he actually tried to care about Sherlock.

"So how did you meet Sherlock?" David asked, feeling a little guilty about giving so much of his friend's secrets away.

The Brit chuckled. "It's quite a strange story, actually. I've ran into an old friend of mine, and after we've talked for a while, I said that no one would want to share a flat with me. He laughed, and when I asked what's funny, he said that I wasn't the first to tell him that. The first one was Sherlock, of course, so I followed my friend to meet him. After less than a minute, Sherlock could tell me everything there was to know about me, even though we had never met before. He had deduced it all from my hair, my clothes, the way I stand and my phone. We became flat mates the next day, and on the same day I started to help him solve crimes."

The American men stared at him for a moment. It occurred to them that there was nothing expected about the two.

"Did you two ever…" Aaron started, not sure how to finish his question.

John chuckled tiredly. "No, never. I'm not gay, and as far as I know, neither is he. In fact, I'm happily married to a currently-pregnant woman." he announced with a proud smile.

"Do you have a picture of her?"

Of course he did. He pulled out his wallet and showed the men the picture from their wedding.

"She's beautiful." Aaron said and smiled.

"She is. It was a beautiful wedding, regardless to the fact the photographer was a murderer and that Sherlock realized she was pregnant before either of us did." he said casually without removing his eyes from the picture. When he put the wallet back in his pocket, he noticed how surprised the men were.

"It really wasn't as bad as it sounds." he tried to explain.

"The photographer had tried to kill someone at your wedding?" Rossi asked astounded.

"Technically, he would have died _after_ my wedding, but yes, he had."

_The more I tell them, the more confused they'll be_, John thought, so he decided to change the subject. "What about you? Are you married?"

David chuckled. "I was married and divorced three times. But you know what they say – fourth time's a charm."

John chuckled as well. "How about you, agent Hotchner?"

He smiled in sadness. "Please, call me Aaron."

"Do you have a wife, _Aaron_? Or a girlfriend, perhaps?"

David put his hand on Hotch's shoulder comfortingly. "He –"

"It's fine, Rossi," Hotch assured him quietly, "I can speak for myself."

David removed his hand from Aaron, clearly not believing him but not daring to say another word.

"I got divorced from my wife because she thought I wasn't spending enough time at home, with her and my son." he took a breath, and then continued, using the same empty tone. "Then, a serial killer murdered her in order to hurt me."

Now it was John's turned to be astonished. "Oh god, I'm so sorry."

Aaron shook his head dismissingly. "It's fine. It's about time I'll start talking about it freely."

An awkward silence spread in the room again. This time, Rossi was the one to break it.

"Well, tomorrow's going to be a long day, so I think it's time we all go to sleep."

The other men agreed, all relieved that the tiring day was finally over.

As John Watson closed his eyes, he wondered if Sherlock had found out the American BAU members weren't as bad as they expected as well. He smiled to himself. He knew he hadn't.

* * *

Sherlock was the first to enter the room. He saw a medium size bed for two of them, and a lumpy sofa for the other one. If he won't volunteer to take the sofa, Reid might, and then he'll have to share a bed with the sulky agent. If he will, the other agents will as well in order to be polite. The sulky agent, whose name Sherlock had managed to forget, seems protective over the younger one, so he'll probably insist he'll take the sofa, in order to make sure the other one sleeps comfortably. Of course, he could always take the sofa for himself, but it seemed uncomfortable and too small for him.

By the time Morgan shut the door behind him and turned on the lights, the detective had chosen the best scenario.

"I'll take the sofa." he said. Just like he expected, the younger agent immediately volunteered to take it instead.

"Don't be ridiculous, Reid," the sulky agent said, "It's too short for you. I'll take it, you two share the bed." he wanted to make sure Reid sleeps well, but also didn't want to be any closer to the annoying detective than he had to.

Sherlock smiled to himself. Everything happened just like he wanted.

"So how did you find out all of that information about me?" Reid immediately asked as he placed his bags next to the left side of the bed, the one that's closer to the sofa.

"I can see it on you. I can see it in your face, your eyes, you hand and your walk. Everything there is to know is there, waiting for someone intelligent enough to notice it. Everybody sees, but no one _observes_." Sherlock paused for a moment, and turned sharply to Morgan. "Shut up." he said, and then turned back to Reid in order to keep talking.

"_Excuse me_?" Morgan asked exasperated. "I didn't even say anything."

"You were thinking. It's annoying." the detective answered calmly without turning to him.

Derek's hand clenched into fists. It was getting harder and harder to fight the need to punch him by the minute.

"I think I'll take a shower. Feel free to complain about my behaviour to Dr. Reid while I'm gone." the detective added and smiled to Morgan before he entered the bathroom. The minute Morgan heard the sound of running water, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The presence of the detective made him nervous. Whether it was because he could read through them all or because he made him wish he could beat the crap out of him, it made Derek hope they'll solve the case as fast as possible.

"I like him." Reid said sheepishly after a moment of silence.

Derek stared at him in disbelief for a second and rolled his eyes. "I just hope we'll get this over with soon."

"Why do you hate him so much?"

"I don't hate him, I just…"

"Want to hit him?" Reid completed, and Derek smiled. He always seemed to know what was going on in his mind, even when he couldn't understand why.

"Don't worry, kid, I'm not going to hit him." Derek assured him, and then muttered, "Even though I'm dying to."

Reid looked at him for a moment with the smallest of frowns, and then suddenly looked away from him. Morgan recognized this expression – it means he figured something out.

Morgan's expression softened. "What is it, kid?"

"What? Oh, nothing, it's nothing." Spencer mumbled without creating eye contact with his friend.

He tried to get the doctor to talk again. "Come on Reid, you can tell me. I won't get upset or anything."

"Nothing, it's just…"

"Just _what_?"

Reid looked up to meet his eyes. "I realized why you don't like him."

Morgan's soft smile faded. He knew that look in Reid's eyes – it was the sad-puppy-eyes look, the one he uses whenever he emphasizes with a victim's family or with the victim itself.

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't like him because you know he can read people, and you're afraid he'll read your past like he read mine." The young man said softly.

"That's not it." Derek lied firmly. Why was everyone around him a genius?

"So you don't mind I know you were abused as a child?" a deep voice suddenly said behind him, and he turned sharply. The detective was standing there, leaning on the wall and grinning arrogantly. Even though he was in his pyjamas, he still managed to look superior.

Morgan's jaw tightened. "How the hell can you know that?"

The detective's grin grew bigger. "The same way I know that if anyone would hurt Dr. Reid it would hurt you more than it would if he would harm you personally. The same way I know you grew up in a difficult neighbourhood, and that you were in a bomb squad unit. It's obvious."

Reid blinked once and then again as he tried to understand how the detective could find out all of that information just by looking at Morgan. Derek, on the other hand, didn't really care about the _how_.

"Look, Holmes," Derek didn't want to call him Mr. Holmes, but Sherlock seemed to personal, "other people might not mind that you mess up with their lives, but I do. So please mind you goddamn business, because I'm here to help _you_, and not the other way around."

Reid expected Sherlock's smile to fade, but it remained frozen on his face. "Are you sure about that, _agent_?" Sherlock said in contempt.

Morgan acted quickly, but Reid was quicker. As Morgan clenched his hand into a fist, the doctor moved towards the detective, and just as Morgan's hand lifted to punch the man, Reid stood between them. His fist ended up hurting Reid, which made Sherlock's smile grow surprisingly bigger and Morgan's angry expression turn into a deep worried frown.

"Why the hell did you do _that_ for?!" he asked as he knelt down beside the doctor. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, don't worry about it." Reid said dismissively.

There was a short silence in the room, in which Reid and Morgan exchanged looks, and Morgan fought the temptation to hit the British detective.

"I think it's time I'll take a shower." he said eventually and got up. He walked to the bathroom, and faced Sherlock for a moment, since he was blocking his path. Morgan was clearly holding back his anger, and Sherlock smiled at that. He moved aside after a moment, and Morgan got into the bathroom quickly and shut the door behind him.

"Thank you." the detective said as he heard the sound of running water.

"Don't thank me." spencer answered coldly without getting up or looking at him.

"You took a pounding for me, so I thought that the decent thing to do it to -"

"I didn't do it for you." the young man said irritated, and finally got up and faced him. "I did it for Morgan, because I know it's better if he hit me than you, at least in other people's mind. That's the _decent thing to do_."

Reid was surprised by himself – he didn't know he could be so protective over someone. He did like the detective, but if he keeps messing with Morgan's mind he'll have to ignore his brilliance and treat him the way Morgan does. That's what Morgan would do, if it was the other way around.

He suddenly noticed Sherlock was frowning and staring at him.

"What?"

"There's something I can't understand."

Before Reid could ask, the detective continued. "I can see why he likes you. But why do you like him? Why do you like any member of your team? You're the closest version of me I've ever seen, except for my brother. You're not the type to make friend easily or to trust people. So why do you?"

The doctor's expression became calmer. "Is that a compliment?"

The detective's expression softened as well. "Yes. In my mind, it is. Your friend there might not agree with me, though."

Spencer chuckled humourlessly.

"Just… Try not to piss him off like that again. Fine?"

The detective smiled a small smile. "Fine."

"I think it's time I'll change into my pyjama." Spencer said.

"Aren't you going to take a shower first?"

He shook his head. "I never shower before I go to bed – it keeps me from sleeping. I shower in the morning, like Morgan usually does."

Sherlock turned his back to him, and Reid changed quickly into his pyjamas. When he turned back, Spencer was already lying on the bed, reading a book.

"Is that a Doctor Who T-shirt?" the Brit asked surprised.

"Yeah. Do you watch it?" Spencer looked up from his book eagerly.

"No."

"Oh." he looked back down at his book, disappointed.

Derek got out of the shower, wearing his pyjama pants. He usually sleeps in his underwear, but given the situation it made him feel too exposed.

He laid down in silence on the lumpy bed and closed his eyes. Sherlock got into bed, as he realized no one will speak for a while, so he might as well use that time to gain power for the next day.

"I think I'll ask Hotch to switch rooms with John tomorrow. Would you mind?"

As he was clearly talking to him, Reid answered. "No, not at all."

"Good. Good night, kid."

"Good night." he answered without lifting his eyes from his book.

Sherlock closed his eyes and hoped he'd fall asleep quickly.


	5. Working Together

**A/N: Hey people! Sorry it took me so long, I'm having a bit of a writer's block, let's hope I'll get over it quickly...**

**Anyway, enjoy chapter 5! If you really feel like making my day 200% better you're welcome to review :)**

* * *

Reid woke up to the sound of running water. It must've been 7 am, because Morgan was in the shower.

He stretched in the bed, and then realized something was wrong. The other half of it was empty.

Spencer opened his eyes and look around the small room but found no sign of Sherlock. Just when he realized the detective had gone, the door opened and he entered.

"Thought you'd still be asleep." he muttered to himself quietly.

"Mr. Holmes, why did you leave? Your life's in danger, and we're here to help, so when you –"

"You're not here to help me, you're here to investigate a series of murders instead of me. That's not _helping me_, that's _boring me_. And stop calling me Mr. Holmes, I'm not your teacher."

"Fine, _Sherlock_. It doesn't matter why we're here. We were asked to keep you safe, so that's what we're going to do."

The detective's irritated stare made Reid come up with a better response.

"You know what? Let's make a deal. You'll do what we ask you to do, and in return, I'll tell Hotch that we need to help and get you in the investigation."

Sherlock offered his hand. "Deal." he said coldly, but the young doctor could see the satisfaction in his eyes.

Reid shook his hand, and just then Morgan got out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel. The three stared at each other for a moment, all frozen in their positions, and then the moment passed. Reid let go of Sherlock's hand, and Sherlock removed his eyes from Morgan.

"Reid, can you fetch me my clothes?" Derek asked, and the irritation in his voice was clear. He didn't like that detective, and whatever the two were talking about that made them shake hands, he wasn't happy about it.

"Sure." the doctor mumbled and pushed himself off the bed to get his friend's clothes. He handed them to him, and he entered the bathroom again to dress up.

Spencer made eye contact with the Brit again, and they were both serious for a moment. Then, a smirk spread on the Brit's face.

* * *

Rossi had always hated Hotch's alarm clock. It had the most irritating noise, and it always took Aaron too long to turn it off. So when it woke him up that morning, he was irritated, like any other morning. But this morning was extremely irritating, since the alarm clock didn't wake Hotch.

"Oh, for God's sake…" he muttered, and reached his hand over Hotch, trying to reach the alarm clock. He still couldn't reach it, so he pushed himself a little further over Hotch, and finally managed to get to that clock and turned it off.

That was the moment Aaron woke up. He opened his eyes to find his friend almost completely over him.

"Dave?..." he asked, still half asleep.

Rossi suddenly realized Hotch's face is right in front of his armpit. He immediately rolled away from him, embarrassed by the strange situation.

"Sorry. It's just that damn alarm clock…" Rossi tried to explain.

"I promise you I'll get a new one as soon as we're back home." Aaron said with a tired smile, and Rossi smiled back.

Aaron set up in the bed, revealing his FBI t-shirt. He always slept in his FBI t-shirts when he was away working – he had always figured that if anything surprised him at night, he should at least appear formal. "Where's Dr. Watson?" he asked, as the doctor was nowhere to be seen in the room.

Rossi glanced at the bathroom's door, which was closed. "In the bathroom. Your obnoxious alarm clock must've woken him up too." he explained, using the opportunity to complain about his friend's alarm clock once more.

Rossi got out of bed and began changing his clothes, and Aaron did the same, with his back to him.

"So this was the best place you could get?"

"It was DI Lestrade who got us this place, actually. Don't worry, we'll solve the case quickly and get back home, _away_ from my alarm clock." Hotch said with a grin.

_He seems to be in a good mood,_ David thought, _maybe I should be optimistic about this case too_.

When they were both dressed up, John got out of the bathroom, dressed up as well.

"Good morning." he greeted.

"Good morning," the BAU unit chief answered, and added the polite question: "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you." he answered, and an awkward silence spread across the room.

"I better go check if the girls have woken up." Aaron said and hurried out of the room, leaving Rossi reluctantly alone with the British doctor. There was an awkward silence in the room for a moment.

"Before I forget, I apologize in advance for everything Sherlock will do." the doctor said out of the blue.

"He hasn't done anything yet."

"But he will. He'll find a way to get us to help you investigate, and the minute he'll see the crime scene you'll all wish you had stayed in Virginia."

"Don't worry, we won't let him investigate with us. If his life's still in danger, it wouldn't be safe to let him wander around in crime scenes."

John chuckled. "If it was up to me, he would have been tied to a chair in a safe house. But Sherlock is Sherlock, and the last thing he cares about is his own safety. He _will_ become a part of the investigation, if he hasn't already."

Since Rossi didn't know how to answer that, he changed the subject.

"I think the dining room is open now. Let's go and eat breakfast, everyone else is probably there already."

The doctor nodded, and the two left the room.

* * *

The BAU team ate breakfast in silence. The usual jokes weren't told, because they weren't alone – two additional men sat at the table with them, and it made them feel awkward.

The unit chief suddenly looked up from his food, as he suddenly remembered there things he needed to announce.

"Before I forget, Sherlock and John will come with us to the crime scenes. We could use their help, but they will not go anywhere on their own, for their own safety. Is that clear?" he asked, looking specifically at the Brits. Sherlock nodded reluctantly and made eye contact with Reid. John nodded and made eye contact with Rossi and the two exchanged meaningful looks.

"What do we know about the murders so far?" the detective asked, already defining them as 'we'.

"Three victims, all murdered in their homes. The cause of death was removal of the heart. In addition, they all had –"

"Hotch, can we _please_ not talk about blood during breakfast?" Garcia begged, even though she had already finished eating. Breakfast was the only time of the day she was allowed to distract herself from deaths and violence cruelty, even in such unusual circumstances.

"Sorry." Aaron mumbled. He kept forgetting that even after seeing everything she has seen, Garcia was still not a profiler.

The awkward silence was back, and everything was quiet except for the occasional eating sounds coming from John, and Sherlock's fingers that tapped incessantly on the table.

"Would you stop doing that?" John asked.

"Doing what?" the detective asked absently, his fingers still tapping the table.

"That thing with your fingers. Stop that. It's annoying."

"Oh, sorry." The detective apologized and stopped tapping his fingers…

…For ten seconds.

"Alright," John put down his fork on his plate exasperated, "I'm finished. Can we go to the crime scene now?" the doctor asked in irritation, and Sherlock's mouth corners twitched for a moment as he tried to conceal a satisfied grin.

Aaron looked around the table to make sure everyone had finished their breakfast. When he saw they had, he nodded stiffly. "Sherlock, John, you'll go with Reid and Morgan to the first crime scene. Rossi, Seaver, you'll come with me to the second crime scene. Whoever'll finished first will go to the third crime scene, and the rest will join them. Garcia, call DI Lestrade and tell him you're coming. He had told me they had arranged you a room for yourself with the best computers they could get."

Each of the unit members nodded when their name was called, some slightly reluctantly. They all got up from their seats and headed quietly to their cars, each silently praying this case would be an easy one.

* * *

Morgan was the first to enter William Smith's house, the first crime scene. Lestrade was working with Hotch on the second crime scene, so he sent another officer to help them. He had secretly warned him that she does not work well with Sherlock, so if anything goes wrong, he should just send her away. Morgan liked being in charge, but being responsible to the two Brits made him slightly nervous, as it seemed that nothing got away from the detective.

A black woman with an irritated expression was waiting for them in the living room with her arms crossed and her mouth shut tight.

"You must be Sergeant Donovan." Morgan assumed and offered his hand. The woman shook it in clear reluctance.

"Yes, I am. And you must be the American BAU team." she said with a thick accent.

"I'm SSA Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Spencer Reid." he introduced and ignored the Brits, as he knew they already know each other.

"Doctor? How old are you, 18?" she asked and didn't bother to hide her surprise.

"I'm 27."

"Oh."

Her gaze moved from the young doctor to the older one behind him and his friend. "Hello, freak."

The detective smirked sarcastically. "Sally. Always nice to see you."

"I thought your life was in danger."

"Turns out you're not the only one that wants to kill me."

"I've heard Lestrade got you a body guard or something."

"Yes, as you can see. Agent sulky-face and Dr. Reid are keeping me safe as I do their job for them."

Morgan turned around sharply.

"_Agent sulky-face?_" he repeated angrily.

"I couldn't remember your name." the detective shrugged.

As Reid couldn't hold his laughter in anymore, he let out a quiet giggle, but of course Morgan had heard it.

"Something's funny, pretty boy?"

Reid forced himself to close his mouth and shook his head, holding back his laughter.

"Didn't think so. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to start doing my job now."

Donovan handed him the files she was holding. Morgan grabbed them without saying a word and looked at the pictures. The body wasn't found in the living room but in the bedroom. He couldn't see any broken windows, so the Unsub must've entered through the front door. So he either had a key or had the skills to break in quietly. He went upstairs without asking Reid to follow him, as he knew he will. The detective stayed in the living room for a while longer, and Morgan couldn't care less about what he was doing there.

When he entered the bedroom, he was glad that the police officers had kept the place exactly the way they had found it. There was a small bed in the middle of the room, and a small wooden closet next to it. The bed wasn't made up, and the closet was open and showed clothes in messy piles. Definitely a man that lives alone. But this was a nice house, with two floors and seemingly expensive furniture. How could he afford it?

"How could he afford it?" Morgan murmured to himself.

"It says here he was a private detective."

Morgan turned to look at his friend. He didn't remember handing him the files. "No private detective gets such a salary. We should ask Garcia, maybe he got his money illegally and pissed someone off on the way."

Derek turned back to the room. There was a large red stain on the beige carpet, where the body was found, but there were no signs of a struggle.

"So I'm the Unsub," Derek started, "I break into the house quietly and managed to get upstairs without being noticed. That means I'm quiet and careful. William sees me but before he can attack me I inject him with… Reid, what did he inject him with?"

"Temazepam."

"What's that?"

"Benzodiazepine." a deep voice suddenly said. The detective entered the room without looking at the Americans.

Derek gave him and irritated glance and got up. He gave Reid his 'please explain your scientific talk' look.

"It's a psychoactive drug. It has antianxiety, anticonvulsant and skeleton muscles relaxant properties. In fact, the serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer admitted to using it to sedate his victims before murdering them, although he mainly used triazolam."

"Would the Unsub need any knowledge in chemistry in order to know to use it?"

"Not really, he'll just need to do a little research."

Sherlock crouched next to the large blood stain, and then pulled out a small magnifying glass from his coat and opened it. He observed the carpet, edges of the stain and several parts of the wall. Then he straightened up, and walked silently out of the room. John followed him quietly.

"Wait," Morgan called, and the detective slowly turned, "Aren't you going to tell us what you've found?"

An arrogant smirk appeared on the detective's face. "Oh, nothing much," he shrugged sarcastically, "Just that our suspect is a man, 6ft tall with dark curly hair and has a criminal record and that our victim was gay. I hope we'll have more luck with the second crime scene."

John hurried after his friend, who exited the room dramatically a second ago and was already walking too quickly for John to keep up.

"Wait, Sherlock!" Morgan called, but the detective didn't turn around.

Derek and Spencer were frozen for a moment, both trying to understand how the detective could realize all of that in less than five minutes. Then, Reid realized something.

"Did he say 'the second crime scene'?"

"Yeah, so?"

Reid's eyes widened slightly. "We aren't supposed to go to the second one, we're supposed to go to the third one."

"I'm sure that's what he meant to say."

"Morgan, this man can glance at a man and learn his secrets. Do you honestly think he'd make that kind of mistake?"

Morgan's eyes widened as well and he ran down the stairs. Reid followed, slightly more slowly. Both of them ignored Donovan's confused look as they ran past her. When they opened the front door, they could see their black SUV being driven away from them.

"Dammit!" Derek cried and kicked the doorpost.

Before Reid could say anything, Morgan pulled out his phone.

"Hotch?"

"_What is it, Morgan?_" the unit chief asked, as he could hear the anger in Derek's voice.

"Detective smart-ass and John hijacked our car." Derek said, not bothering to talk politely. "They're heading to the second crime scene."

"_They hijacked your car? How did they get the keys?_" Hotchner asked, receiving questioning looks from Ashley and Rossi.

Derek put his hand on his pocket and sighed exasperated. "He must've pickpocketed me somehow."

Aaron was quiet for a moment as he considered his words. "_Alright, get a cab and go to the third crime scene. The rest of us will meet you there as soon as possible._"

Morgan hanged up. Reid wanted to say something that'll calm him down, but he knew better than that – talking to Morgan when he's pissed is like asking to be punched. Besides, he preferred to remain silent – it gave him more time to think about the way Sherlock gave them the information. It was a long and quiet ride to the next crime scene.

* * *

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked as he saw his friend is heading to the black SUV.

"Going to the next crime scene. Are you coming?" he asked rhetorically. Of course John was coming. But that doesn't mean that he liked the fact they're stealing a car.

"They're going to kill us."

"Then the people after me will be very pleased."

John rolled his eyes at him. "Why couldn't we get a cab? Why did we have to steal their car?"

Sherlock started the car and drove out of their parking.

"Hold on, where did you get the keys?"

Sherlock smiled. He glanced at the house just in time to see the black agent and Reid run out of the house. They stared at him, and he smiled at them.

"Because this is _much_ more fun. Besides, we're not stealing it. We're merely borrowing it."

John sighed and watched his friend drive to their next destination.

"You snuck out last night, didn't you?" he asked after a moment of silence.

Sherlock didn't answer.

"After spending so much time with you, I know how to _observe_, too. Perhaps not as well as you do, but it's something, and I know you haven't slept for more than hour last night."

John kept his eyes on Sherlock, but the detective refused to meet his gaze.

He sighed. "Alright, have it your way. Just remember that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

They were both quiet again.

"There's nothing wrong with me." the detective said at last.

"No, there isn't."

"I'm fine."

"You're absolutely fine."

Sherlock turned his head to see if the doctor really did believe him. He didn't. The detective turned his head back to the road.

"Even if there was something wrong with me…" Sherlock said quietly, "I wouldn't tell anyone."

John smirked humourlessly. Of course he wouldn't.


End file.
